


Did you hear about that mother; Broke her daughter's legs in two

by Anigod



Series: ani's sbi fics for the soul (or heart) [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, father Phil Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anigod/pseuds/Anigod
Summary: Phil was put under house arrest for a reason. He understood why, of course, but he wasn't going to sit here and follow the rules. He had anarchy to organize, governments to destroy, sons to look after.However, he breaks out one too many times. Dream's finally caught him trying to return to Technoblade's house, and decides house arrest is not a severe enough of a punishment for him. He lifts the wooden beam over his head, and brings it down onto Phil's legs.Phil hopes his sons realize that something is terribly wrong when Phil doesn't visit after a week.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, none you weirdos
Series: ani's sbi fics for the soul (or heart) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139138
Comments: 7
Kudos: 206
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Did you hear about that mother; Broke her daughter's legs in two

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What One Must](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28170474) by [JumpingInMuddlePuddles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpingInMuddlePuddles/pseuds/JumpingInMuddlePuddles). 



> Inspired by “What One Must” by JumpingInMuddlePuddles on A03, specifically the last chapter (6). Also inspired by Stephen King’s ‘Misery’.
> 
> Trigger warnings: severe broken bones, gore, mentions of being chained, depictions of severe pain, swearing, yelling(?), mentions of death (not major)
> 
> I’m back on my bullshit where I listen to one song on repeat for four hours (The Mind Electric pls help). 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

When Phil was put under house arrest, he was more amused than intimidated. He listened to people walk around him as they led him to his house with a small smile (and if that unnerved the little squad that was escorting him, it wasn’t his fault entirely). Tubbo had told him why he was being incarcerated, sure, but he nearly laughed at the hesitation and fear Quackity exhibited when told to put the monitor on his ankle. He saw the poor boy’s hands shake so hard when he was clasping the iron monitor on him that he nearly offered to do it himself. Almost. Fundy and Ranboo, well, he didn’t have anything against them. They didn’t let him escape but they also didn’t do anything remotely violent towards him besides standing and watching him.

Yet.

So, Phil hatched a plan. He wasn’t going to sit in his house like a good little boy and expect to be let off because of his ‘good behavior’. He had shit to do. People to see. Anarchy to plan.

And if he missed seeing his boys, could you blame him? They had just managed to bring Wilbur back to life, able to see his real smile, able to hold him again, able to just be in his middle son’s presence. And if Phil often woke up in the middle of the night in a panic to check to make sure his son was still breathing, could you blame him? He and Wilbur had yet to talk about what happened but he was confident that they would understand each other better than they have in years.

Phil wasn’t too worried about Techno but he knew his eldest would begin to worry if he didn’t visit within a week. Though Techno would never admit it, he worried about Phil being in L’manburg. He would offer up his guest bedroom, gaze facing away from Phil as he fiddled with his sleeves, hoping for Phil to stay longer. Phil would warmly smile at his eldest and tease him, making a blush creep on the pinkette’s face as he accepted the offer. It never failed to warm his heart to know that he was still wanted by his sons.

And Tommy....they still hadn’t managed to find him yet. His youngest had always been a spitfire—passionate and always burning—but it often got him into trouble. Hence, the exile. Phil had sighed deeply when Techno told him as his eldest hid snickers behind his hand while they ate dinner. They were sure he would show up in a few days, but then a week, then two weeks, then a month went by and they were beginning to get worried.

Phil couldn’t handle the potential of losing another son, especially Tommy. The kid had barged into the house so many years ago and immediately brought chaos and liveliness into their little cottage. He taught Wilbur to embrace his hobbies and Techno to laugh. He helped his two boys to bond with Tommy as the glue.

Tommy taught Phil how to be a better father.

And if Tommy was gone alongside Wil, what kind of father was he?

—————————

He probably should’ve expected that people would be checking to make sure he was still in his house. It’s why he was so caught off-guard by the butt of an axe swinging into his temple and knocking him to the ground. Black spots danced in his vision while his ears rang. He groaned when he was yanked to his feet and dragged back to his house, head pounding and thoughts jumbled.

He probably blacked out for a bit because suddenly a healing potion was being poured into his throat and the worried face of Tubbo swam into his vision.

Phil was...lying on the floor?

“What the fuck?” he mumbled.

He tried to move his arms but found that they were held down by something cold and heavy. Phil quickly snapped out of his daze and followed where his body was laying on the floor in front of his bed, the chains on his wrists, to the shackles on the walls. These bastards just chained him to the wall! Aw, hell no.

“Tubbo,” Phil began, “why am I chained to the wall?” His voice was deceivingly polite but rage was evident in his eyes.

Tubbo held back a flinch at the hatred directed at him and motioned for Quackity and Fundy to stand beside him. Ranboo was not there. Phil looked each of them in the eyes, reveling in their fear before Quackity spoke.

“The President has increased the severity of your, Philza Minecraft’s, sentence due to your escape attempt. As a result, you must be shackled to your house alongside the ankle monitor in order to prevent another escape. Any other attempts may be met with severe consequences.” Quackity’s voice wavered as Phil’s glare turned downright menacing.

However, Phil quickly turned to Fundy as his once-grandson spoke.

“Phil, listen, we didn’t want to have to do this but—“

“Don’t talk to me, Fundy, I think you’ve already done enough,” is all Phil said before turning to Tubbo, ignoring the hurt look he got.

He raised an eyebrow. “So, Mr. President,” he mocked, “how long is my sentence now?”

Tubbo hesitated and looked out the window before responding.

“Until Dream thinks you’re no longer a threat,” he said softly.

Phil blanched. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

Dream could want Phil out of the way for a hundred different reasons, but each revolved around his sons. And now Phil was stuck.

He was stuck, but not hopeless.

Hell. Fucking. No.

He didn’t see Tubbo and his entourage leave his house nor did he hear the doors close. He was too busy formulating a plan—one that included breaking one of the most important rules in the Dream SMP:

No flying.

—————————

Phil has dislocated his shoulder many times, but each time he was either in a battle or chained up like this by bigoted humans. Regardless, it still hurt like a bitch.

It took him 10 minutes in order to get into the right position and another 20 minutes in order to calm himself down and brace his arm against the wall. One pop later and several loud strings of curses, Phil was able to reach his back where he kept a hidden weapon underneath his kimono. He nearly cried in relief when he felt the hilt of the dagger, clutching onto it and letting his shoulder fall limp but his nerves were on fire.

He dropped the dagger on the floor, closing his eyes and laying on the bed. Phil took deep breaths to prevent him from either passing out, or vomiting, or both.

‘Come on Phil, you have to do this. For Wil, for Techno, for Tommy.’

‘Dadza pog.’

‘Old man injured.’

‘Life alert.’

‘You can do this, Phil!’

‘U u R r’

‘Happy 3 months pog’

‘Phil pop your shoulder back in it’s bad for you.’

He chuckled as the voices mixed with his thoughts. They could be encouraging at times and, in times like these, they were well appreciated. He sat up and braced his arm again, listening to the pop and the stabbing pain that came with fixing a shoulder. He let out a deep breath and made sure to keep his shoulder still. He had nothing to wrap it with yet and he couldn’t afford to have a permanently stiff shoulder. Phil picked up his dagger, held it to the chains, and snapped the bloody things like sticks. He rubbed his wrists from where the chains were—not too red, he noted—and immediately went to fetch a sling and some bandages from a chest.

‘Old manza’

‘oh no guys he’s hurt let him be’

‘haha old man hurt’

‘dadza supremecy’

‘badass Phil’

“Shut the fuck up, guys,” he said fondly.

—————————

Luckily, he already had everything he needed packed and ready to go. His house in L’manburg wasn’t really his home and kept it minimally stocked. Unfortunately, he didn’t have potions because Techno always had so many at his house that Phil never needed a brewing stand. He regrets that because now he’s one arm down in case a fight breaks out.

Phil shakes his head. He can’t think about the ‘what-ifs’ right now. What mattered was getting his shit together and making a break for it out of this gods-forsaken country.

He set his one bag down and double-checked his inventory and weapons. Everything was in order, at least to him. He can feel the buzzing at the back of his head get stronger as the voices told him he was forgetting something. He ignored them and moved on to the most important part of his plan: his wings.

It had been way too long since he flew but he still kept them groomed and preened under his robes, specifically for emergencies like this.

He shrugged off his clothes, blatantly ignoring the voices yelling about stripping and dad bod, and groaned as he stretched his purple and black wings above his head. Phil shook them out a bit, watching as the feathers puffed and settled down before grabbing his custom clothes and slipping them on. There wasn’t much of a difference between his other clothes and the new ones except they made room for his wings. He grabbed his trusty bucket hat, bag, and ax before checking his windows. He didn’t see anyone outside, but it was around midnight. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t notice he was gone until dawn. Phil put his bag over his injured shoulder much to his dismay, held his ax in his good hand, and exited his house. He checked his surroundings once again and leapt off of his balcony in the direction of Techno’s house.

Phil glided towards the walls and was nearly free until an arrow pierced his left-wing, causing him to tumble and land on his bad shoulder. His cries of pain alerted his attacker of his location. He shoved all pain to the side, got up, and began to run. More voices followed him and shouts for him to stop were ignored.

He was so close to the walls. If he could make it right up to the edge and push his wings to force him to fly over the edge, he would be free. He just didn’t account for Dream to be joining the search as well. Phil was suddenly pushed to the side and lost his balance, stumbling onto his hands and knees as the masked figure approached him. Phil knew he could probably fight Dream long enough in order to get away, but there were four other people surrounding him, he was tired, injured, and hadn’t eaten anything all day.

To top it off, Dream clutched his injured shoulder, eliciting a grunt of pain from Phil. He just didn’t understand one thing: how did they find him?

He must have asked that out loud because Dream taps his ankle with his axe and Phil looks down.

That stupid ankle monitor.

He forgot to cut it off when he cut off the chains.

His eyes widened as his breaths now came in gasps. If they put him in chains for one escape attempt, what would they do for a second? And with Dream here? He’ll get no mercy.

“Dream?” Tubbo asked from beside Phil.

He inclined his head towards Tubbo, never taking his eyes off Phil.

“What, uh, what do you want us to do with him?” Tubbo was nervous. He was fidgeting and rocking back on his heels. He probably knew that whatever was going to happen to Phil would not be pretty.

Dream feigned thinking for a moment. “Go back to Phil’s house and wait there for me. I’ll be there in a few minutes after having a chat with Mr. Philza here,” Dream instructed before turning to fully face Phil, his hand tightening on his shoulder.

As he heard their footsteps retreat, Phil felt genuine fear sink its teeth into him. Dream was notorious for his punishments that didn’t fit the crime, and now that Phil has broken two of Dream’s rules, he was sure he wasn’t going to be making it out of L’manburg.

He heard Dream sigh from in front of him and Phil tensed. The voices had gone silent.

“Phil, Phil, Phil, come on. I expected better from you,” he patronized.

Phil could feel anger starting to brew in his chest.

“I give you one simple rule to follow and that was no flying. I even let you keep your wings—“

Let him?!

“And you abuse that freedom by breaking your sentence in order to escape—“

“Oh, and I was just supposed to sit there like a good boy?! I fucking hate this place and now you act all high and mighty—“ he was cut off by a hard punch to the cheek.

His head swung to the side as pain laced his face. The action caused his shoulder to be jostled and he let out a groan. The front of his shirt was grabbed and he was met with the white porcelain of Dream’s mask.

“Listen here Phil, I did not work my ass off to keep L’manburg in line just to let you ruin all of my hard work,”

“I-“

“And I think you need to be taught a lesson in obedience,” he said angrily as he let Phil’s shirt go.

Before he could even attempt an escape, a wooden beam came down onto his left leg hard. He could feel his bone crack in his shin followed by a sickening sound that only came with a shattering bone.

Phil screamed.

He tried to move away but his arm was fucked, his eyes were blurry from tears, and now his leg was fucked, too. Dream hefted the beam up again and Phil begged him not to do it again, that he would go to his house quietly, but Dream ignored him. He swore he could see a sadistic smile under Dream’s mask from where Phil was on the ground. As soon as Dream broke Phil’s other leg, all he heard was the crack of his last hope of freedom and the never-ending fire that consumed his legs.

He must have screamed his throat raw because when he woke up in his bed, he couldn’t speak, walk, or make any new attempts at an escape.

For the first time, he felt hopeless.

(Phil cried for hours after he found out his wings had been chained to the wall instead of his hands.)

—————————

When Phil didn’t visit after a few days, Techno wasn’t worried. He knew that it was hard for Phil to sneak out of L’manburg but he also knew Phil easily lost track of time when working on something. He remembers being young, just him and Phil, and watching the older man create beautiful structures and weapons over the course of weeks. It fascinated him, and honestly, he looked up to Phil to encourage him to finish his own projects.

So yeah, when Phil didn’t show up after three days, he wasn’t too worried...

But then a week had passed and there was radio silence from his father. In that time, he’d managed to lightly kidnap Tommy and calm him down enough to explain the situation. He wasn’t good at comforting people, but seeing Tommy walk around in the snow without a jacket (or even shoes), he tried to be there for him.

Wilbur mostly helped. Tommy had found Wilbur in his room, asleep, and proceeded to throw himself at his older brother, nearly sending the newly resurrected man into a heart attack.

Techno ran up the stairs, expecting an intruder but just saw Tommy suffocating Wilbur and the latter crying softly at the embrace. He let the two be but he knew that as much as he tried to suppress his piglin instincts, if something threatened those two, he’d rip them to shreds.

—————————

Bringing Tommy home to Wilbur went about as smoothly as one might think: there was screaming, crying, one too many fires, a pumpkin, and eventual acceptance.

Honestly, Techno probably lost five years of his life watching Tommy wildly swing a torch at Wilbur while screaming “DEMON” but also nearly setting the ceiling on fire. He couldn’t tell if Wilbur was as nearly dead inside as he was or just genuinely too tired to deal with that.

Both, probably.

They both stopped trying and just watched the teen tire himself out in the kitchen until they could explain. Wilbur nearly passed out from lack of oxygen as he saw Tommy’s face shift from anger to embarrassment when Techno explained how ‘yes, he and Phil managed to bring back Wilbur’ and ‘no, Tommy, you’re not being punked’ and ‘you’re fixing my charred ceiling by the way.’

Techno will admit that his face hurts from trying to keep himself from smiling at his brother’s antics. And you’d have to catch him dead to admit that he missed them.

‘Technosoft’

‘ew affection’

‘TOMMY WILBUR POG’

‘sbi in my good christian smp??’

‘humina humina humina’

.....he’d have to tell Phil about this when he came home.

—————————

The brothers knew Phil had trouble leaving L’manburg, but it didn’t stop Tommy from constantly annoying Techno by asking where Phil was. It was a cheap mask to hide how worried the blond was about him; Techno had caught him snuggled in one of Phil’s spare robes too many times to count.

He’d catch Wilbur absently strumming a guitar, brows furrowed, and frequently looking out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of green amongst the blinding white of their environment.

Techno wasn’t fairing any better. It’s not often that he worries about someone, but he’s decided that he loathed it. Gods, why did he have to care about people?

He knew why. They had given everything from companionship, to affection, understanding, and love. They made him feel less like a monster and more like a person. When Wilbur died...he doesn’t know how he would react to losing Phil. Or Tommy for that matter. The gremlin had a way of making you love him. So as much as it pained all three of them, they decided to wait for Phil to return on his own.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The voices certainly didn’t help either.

‘help Phil’

‘Dadza hurt’

‘GET PHIL’

‘GO TO HIM’

‘BLOOD’

Maybe he would have to pay a visit to Phil sooner than he thought. The thought of him hurt made his chest tighten. Who would hurt Phil, though? Unless....

.....unless Dream was still running around and meddling.

The thought made his blood boil. If he finds out that Dream did hurt Phil, well, maybe he would give in to the voices for just a little bit.

Techno had a headache for three hours after that thought. Regardless, he smiled.

—————————

Turns out they didn’t have to wait that long for a sign that something was deeply wrong in L’manburg, and, in consequence, with Phil.

The little country’s cabinet had come knocking on Techno’s door at some ungodly hour in the day. At first, he thought it was Phil and immediately jumped out of bed and rushed down the stairs, but was instead met with Wilbur and Tommy hiding under their kitchen table, staring wide-eyed at the door. Wilbur was nearly engulfing Tommy under the small table. Techno guessed he was trying to shield him from whoever was at the door.

When he raised his eyebrow in a silent question towards Wilbur, he mouthed ‘L’Manburg’ and gestured towards the front door.

Techno turned towards the door and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t have a weapon on him, was barely dressed, and already felt tired before the day had even begun. He looked around the room, trying to form some sort of plan, when Tubbo’s voice came from outside.

“Technoblade?” Tubbo’s voice was muffled from the door, but they could still hear him. Tommy’s head snapped up so quickly he almost banged his head on the table. Wilbur held onto him tighter as if he knew Tommy would try to run to his friend as soon as he could.  
Techno walked and stood in front of the door, but didn’t open it. He turned his head slightly and signaled to Wilbur to take Tommy downstairs. Wilbur gave him a look as if to say ‘what about you?’ Techno gave a slight nod of his head and pointed to the ladder. The brunet relented and tugged Tommy towards the lower floors. 

“Technoblade!” Quackity now shouted from outside. 

The teen tried to fight but one glare from Techno had him grumbling but going down the ladder anyway. Once the two were safely downstairs, he took a deep breath, at least tried to look presentable as he could, grabbed his crown and cape, and opened the door. He was met with three determined faces and one regretful expression. Honestly, he nearly laughed. The cabinet of the ‘great country’ was reduced to four…. adults? Regardless, his expression remained neutral and slightly bored.

“What do you want,” he greeted. 

‘how did they find you’

‘danger danger’

‘Phil where’s Phil’

‘phil is in danger!!!’

‘blood for the blood god’

Tubbo stepped forward, sword raised and a piece of paper in the other hand. Techno watched, expression blank and unintimidated. He could tell it got on Quackity’s nerves from the way his expression turned angrier as time went on. 

Tubbo cleared his throat and began to read, “Technoblade, you have been deemed a threat to the peace and safety of L’Manburg. You have been summoned to a trial where you will defend the crimes you have committed and receive a sentence. Come quietly, and you will remain unharmed. We will use force if we have to.”  
Tubbo shoved the paper in his pocket and leveled his sword at Techno. He rolled his eyes. Couldn’t a man get some peace and quiet around here? He looked down at Tubbo, expression never changing.

“I’m retired. I haven’t committed any new crimes,” he said.

“This trial is for your past crimes, Technoblade,” Tubbo defended.

Techno heaved a sigh. “Why now? And how did you find me? You can’t be that clever,” he mocked. Though he probably shouldn’t have said that, he needed answers. If they found him out of their own exploration, he needed to move and move quick. Where would they go? Any new place was too far away from L’Manburg where Phil would have to travel farther if he wanted to visit and Techno didn’t know if he could do that to the man. He could find a place through a nether portal? But where?

“We found it from a compass, okay?! Now can you please walk forward or we will use force!” Quackity admitted. He nearly missed the way the man’s voice wavered because of the screams in his head. 

The compass. Phil’s compass? He stood deathly still and turned to Tubbo.

“Show me the compass,” he demanded. Anger bubbled in his words. 

Tubbo nearly jumped back in shock. “W-what?” he stammered.

“Show. Me. The compass,” he growled.

Tubbo hesitated, but produced a familiar compass from his pocket. It dangled from the chain, needle pointing to his house. Techno stared intensely at it, looking for an answer to how Tubbo got the compass and—there; on a small corner of the compass, was dark red spot. It was faded, almost as if someone tried to rub it off, but it was there, and, oh, if Techno wasn’t angry before—he’s absolutely livid. 

How dare they. How dare they hurt Phil. They’ve hurt him, killed him, hurt him. Kind, comforting Phil who wouldn’t voluntarily hurt a soul, who took him in and the first to call him ‘son,’ the first to tell him he wasn’t a monster, the first to give him a hug, the first to love him—

They were dead.

He hatched a plan.

_______________

For the next few days, Phil lived in either a state of dissociation to try to preserve whatever energy he had and ignore the pain he was in, or he was unconscious. Every time he tried to splint his legs or even ice them with whatever materials he had in his chests, Tubbo or Dream would stop by and take away what little relief he was able to scrounge. He refused to cry in front of them whenever they took away his splints. But each time they were destroyed, hopelessness and grief would sink its teeth deeper into his heart. He really didn’t know how much longer he could take this; not to mention, the voices had gone nearly silent. He couldn’t even find comfort in his little voices anymore. 

Sitting on his bed, he looked at the poor state of his legs. They were mottled, purple, and swollen. Every shift of his body sent fire down his nerves and some days, they were nearly completely numb. Phil couldn’t even use his wings to move him across his house and he sure as hell couldn’t dislocate another shoulder.

Gods, he was so tired. Every time he tried to sleep his legs would shift, waking him up. Not to mention his thoughts nearly drove him mad. Always thinking, always worrying, always planning. Phil hated being stationary. 

He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes, hoping that his sons were okay (and hoping that maybe, just maybe, they knew something was wrong).

The next day, Tubbo came into his house and woke him up from a restless sleep. Blinking groggily, Phil rubbed his eyes and nearly jumped in shock when the teen unchained his wings from the wall. He watched with wide eyes as he was finally able to relax the sore muscles and sighed as at least one part of his body ached less. He hadn’t realized he closed his eyes until Tubbo was tapping his head.

He sighed. “What do you want, Tubbo,” he asked. He was suspicious of the president and worry began to creep up his spine. Fuck, he hoped Dream wasn’t around. 

“I’m removing the chains,” he responded. 

Okay, well that didn’t answer his question. Did he have to always spell it out?

“Great. Thanks. But why?” he reiterated. 

Tubbo stopped fiddling with the chains and looked at Phil in the eyes. He did not like the look on the kid’s face. Tubbo stared for a bit longer before making his way towards the front door. 

“Don’t worry about it, Phil.”

The door closed behind the president, taunting him with new-found freedom he knew he couldn’t risk.   
He was alone again.

_____________

Techno allowed himself to be led into the gods-forsaken country that dared hurt Phil. He kept his air of confidence and nonchalance as they walked but he analyzing every single detail on their journey: every house, citizen, weapon, and tree they passed was categorized to be used for later. 

The walk was silent and tense, all weapons pointed towards him as the four surrounded the hybrid, daring him to fight back. He wouldn’t, not when his plan was full proof and guaranteed to get Phil and Techno out of their respective situations alive. Then finally, he sees the White House. The few citizens of L’manburg are gathered around a cage and a makeshift podium that was obviously for Tubbo. 

Why was there a cage, if this were a trial? His gaze travels upwards and spots an anvil poised over the cage and his heart stops. 

This was an execution. 

He fought to keep his breathing steady as he continued to search the area, trying to spot a flash of blond or a tall figure somewhere in the background. When he didn’t see them, he could only pray to whatever god was listening that they followed him out of the house anyway. Techno didn’t fight when he was forced to stand in front of the cage, weapons pointed at him. He didn’t fight when Tubbo began to speak loudly about justice and peace. He didn’t fight when those gathered looked at the scene with either disgust, apprehension, or regret. 

But then his eyes spotted Phil sitting on the balcony of a house that was poised on a small hill. The balcony was directly facing the scene of the trial, allowing Techno a direct view of his father. 

Phil’s hair was dull and his feathers were all messed up as if he hadn’t preened his wings—

Phil’s wings are his pride and joy. Why hasn’t he taken care of them?

\--and was that an arrow in his wing? Techno continued to frantically scan the man, finding more and more discrepancies and things that were just plain wrong to see on Phil. His face was pained and he was breathing heavily and looked to be supporting his weight on his arms, shoulders tense. Techno looked down and holy shit—

His legs were fucked. They were purple and swollen from what he could see, bent at the wrong angles. Just looking at them made his own past injuries flare in phantom pain. He could see that Phil was struggling to stay conscious and still at the same time, but he caught Techno’s eye, and this man—this kind, selfless man—smiled gently at Techno as if he was the one that was injured. That smile broke his heart and made him want to commit several war crimes at the same time. 

The Geneva Convention just became a Geneva Suggestion. 

He could feel his control slipping—his piglin instincts beginning to take over as he saw a family member bruised, ailing, and miserable. He felt a growl rumble in his chest, those standing closest to him backing away as the noise reached their ears. They followed Techno’s gaze to where Phil was watching from his balcony, face tense yet exhausted. 

Tubbo’s hold on his weapon slackened and fear clouded his thoughts for just a second before he steeled his nerves. He yelled to an equally fearful Quackity and Fundy to force Techno into the cage. 

“It’s now or never, do you really want to try and do this again another time?” he spat. His tone snapped the other two out of their daze and backed Techno into the cage, locking the door. 

Tubbo and Techno expected to hear Phil yelling and screaming to let Techno go, but the man was quiet, slumped against his doorway, watching with unfocused eyes. Techno’s heart clenched. He knew Phil was worried in the way he held his wings, but he must be truly exhausted to not even make a noise of protest against his execution. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the familiar yells of a specific blond gremlin from his family. 

He turned away from Phil and choked on a laugh as he saw a blur of teenager body slam into Fundy feet first.

“BITCH,” Tommy’s body slammed into Fundy at Mach 5, “MOVE.”

He heard Phil’s soft laughter from the balcony and smiled. He watched as Quackity and Tubbo pointed their weapons at Tommy. They looked so confused and lost that Techno would have loved to take a picture, but he needed to pick the lock of the cage first. He ignored Tommy’s screams to fight him and his signature cackles in favor of taking a bobby pin out of his hair and picking the lock. His fingers nearly got sliced off in the process and he turned to glare at the perpetrator but came face to face with the regretful look of Ranboo. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t do this earlier, Techno,” he mumbled.

“Heh—”

The lock to his cage was broken with one swift blow from Ranboo’s sword. Techno stared in shock at the hybrid before nodding in appreciation and rushing out of the cage. Tommy had brought a netherite sword with him and a matching chestplate. It seems as though they had only been engaging in a screaming match and not a physical battle. 

He was about to take Tommy and run back to his base when Wilbur came into the fray, riding on Carl with a half-conscious Phil riding behind him. Phil looked even worse up close. Wilbur’s face was frantic and pale, the reigns shaking because of his unsteady hands. What had happened? 

“Techno! Take this horse, grab Tommy, and GO!” he ordered. Techno saw the second horse that Wilbur had brought with him and motioned for Wilbur to leave.

“Be careful with him,” is all he said before lifting up Tommy before he could stab Quackity in the eyes, set him on the horse, and the two were off back to his base. 

The constant thoughts of Phil and what L’manburg had done to him festered in his mind for days as Phil recovered. 

____________

Phil, as much as he tried, could not remember how he got to Techno’s house. One second he was sitting on the balcony of his house is L’manburg and the next he was waking up in a warm bed, legs splinted and pain managed. He didn’t panic—he recognized the room—but he did try to walk and immediately fell, his legs flaring as he made contact with the floor. He tried to muffle a scream but he realized he failed when he heard quick thumping footsteps coming up the stairs and barging into his room. Techno’s worried voice was muffled in his ears. He tried to focus on his son’s face—the way his brow was furrowed and his red eyes overflowing with worry. Why was Techno crying?

“—Phil, PHIL! Are you okay? Please answer me, I don’t know how to move you without hurting you. Please answer me,” he begged, rubbing his back and trying to comfort both Phil and himself.

Phil took deep breaths, trying to gather his bearings and to get Techno to stop worrying about him when Wilbur and Tommy rushed into the room. His other sons must have heard the commotion and came to make sure he was alright. He’s being lifted onto the bed and the pain fades from his legs, letting him breath just a bit easier. He was shaking, he realized. 

“Christ Phil, you scared the shit out of us. I’ve never seen Tommy disappear that quickly,” Wilbur tried to joke. Ignoring Tommy’s offended ‘hey!’, he managed to make Phil smile, just a little bit. 

“I’m sorry, boys. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized, coughing soon after. His throat was shot, either from screaming or lack of water, it didn’t matter. He was handed a glass of water that he didn’t notice was on his bedside and drank it slowly. The tension in the atmosphere was killing him.

“Sooooo, how have you three been? I’m sorry I couldn’t visit, I, uh, was kind of stuck in my house—”

“Phil,” Techno cut him off, “who did this to you.” His tone was deadly, eyes shining with suppressed bloodlust.

Tommy spoke up. “Yeah, Phil, who fucked you up? We’ll fucking,” he smacked his fist into his hand, “beat the shit out of ‘em,” he said. That brought a smile to his face to know that Tommy was trying to lighten up the atmosphere while still being serious. 

Wilbur was silent, a guilty look on his face as they waited for an answer. 

“What’s on your mind, Wil,” Phil asked softly.

His middle son kept his head down and fiddled with a string on his sleeve. Tommy bumped his shoulder in a small show of support. Techno sat quietly on the edge of Phil’s bed. When Wilbur looked up, he met the kind eyes of Phil; they held no hatred or malice towards him, even if Wilbur couldn’t say the same about himself. 

He was silent before answering, “I just can’t help by feel like this is my fault,” he admitted quietly. Wilbur continued when he saw the three others gearing up for an argument.

“It’s just—I put Tubbo in charge. Maybe not directly, but it was still me, and look at what he’s done. He exiled Tommy, nearly killed Techno, and Phil—” his voice shook at Phil’s name, “they borderline tortured you,” he choked out. 

Phil rubbed his back, about to comfort him with kind words when he saw Tommy’s conflicted expression, but Wilbur plowed on. 

“And I just, you know, feel so guilty about it that maybe you should have just let me be a ghost and just forget about everything—” 

“Wilbur,” Techno cut him off. His brother stopped talking but didn’t look up. Techno sighed but continued, setting a heavy hand in Wilbur’s hair as he talked.

“Phil and I would have brought you back, regardless if you remembered what you did or not. We don’t blame you for anything, Wilbur. I honestly don’t think we could. So… stop being lame. You’re making me feel emotions,” he teased, but the message stuck.

He sniffled a bit, muttering a small thanks before snapping his head up after a hard punch in the shoulder. Wilbur turned to see Tommy giving him an intense stare with his arms crossed. 

“As much as I want to, I can’t blame you for Tubbo’s actions, Wilbur. He chose to do those things, just like you did. But… at least I know that you regret your actions. And you actually missed me, too,” he quietly admitted. Tommy’s face was slightly red and Wilbur hugged the kid tightly, showing his appreciation of his words. Tommy tried to push Wilbur away, but didn’t try too hard.

“Get off me, clingy bitch.”

“Nooo, Tommyyyy, that was really sweet. Thank you,” he praised. His voice was muffled by Tommy’s shirt and the younger brother’s shirt was getting wet, but he didn’t push Wilbur away. 

Phil smiled as he watched his two youngest comfort each other. He had missed this. Really and truly missed being a little family. He felt eyes on him and he knew his eldest was watching him like a hawk. He purposefully deflected Techno’s question but it could wait. He wanted to savor this moment for as long as he could before his sons waged war on Dream on his behalf.

The thought made a weight lift off of his chest for the first time since his house arrest.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah...there's some more chillin on the back burner. Leave a kudo and comment, they keep me going.
> 
> Also, if you have any requests for a fic, tell me in the comments, I'd be happy to do em.
> 
> I hope this lives in your head rent-free :)
> 
> also follow my tumblr: anigodd. I post sneak peeks of new fics I'm doing and some art stuff there. feel free to send me fanart if you're so inclined.


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